


Two Young Savage Things

by YourCoolBroKat



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Gen, Songfic, idk if this qualifies as a songfic or not but, other than that one, this is an au but i feel like it'll spoil it if i say what sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourCoolBroKat/pseuds/YourCoolBroKat
Summary: Tie those horses to the post outsideAnd let those glass doors open wideAnd in their surface, see two young savage thingsBarely worth remembering
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Two Young Savage Things

It makes rustling cattle easier. The men they steal from need lanterns to go anywhere, and their horses spook as easy as if they were facing coyotes instead of bandits. Pawning them off proves just as easy, because people who like to buy rustled cattle are more comfortable moving under the cover of night. 

Finding sanctuary, however, proves far harder.

Neither of them wants to break into a church and spend the night. It just doesn’t feel right. Out loud, they chalk it up to Dutch’s teachings, the bible they learned how to read on, and not wanting to desecrate holy ground. They’re both far too aware of the truth, digging into their chests and singeing their skin, but out loud, they blame morality and the teachings of the man who may as well have been their father.

Setting up camp isn’t an option anymore-- not the way it used to be, at least. They still have campfires on quiet evenings, invite passing strangers to join and drink if they’d like, but for the most part they’re on the run. That’s the excuse they say out loud, at least, the law too close on their tail to be exposed like that, and hey, even if the law isn’t after them, they will be eventually. So it’s better, safer, to find a barn to hide in, or a vacant hunter’s cottage, hiding underneath the straw or the bedframe or the floorboards until the night comes and they can once again start running.

When they pass a shop that’s closed for the night-- the way they always are, now-- John pretends not to notice the way Arthur looks at him when he thinks John can’t see, like he’s mourning a future for him that John was pretty sure he never had anyhow. Instead, John decides to eye up the vest that sits so nicely on the mannequin in the window. “You don’t need that,” Arthur scolds, and John scoffs. “I could just take it.” 

“And get the law after us? For somethin’ like that? I don’t think so.” John huffs. Arthur might play the role of big brother real well, but he’s been taking it a little  _ too  _ seriously ever since The Rockies. “We can leave money for it,” John tries, and since Arthur is giving him a  _ look  _ before opening his mouth John takes his chance. “And we’ve been wearin’ the same clothes since we got to West Elizabeth  _ months  _ ago. If the law comes after us we ain’t exactly gonna be hard to spot!” And now Arthur’s hooked, because John noticed him eyeing up one of the jackets in the store, and he’s just been handed a good excuse for it. “ _ Fffffffffffffffffffffffffffine,”  _ Arthur concedes, and John grins, “But we ain’t takin’ more than we can pay for, and we’re leavin’ a tip.”

“Works for me,” John laughs, lock already picked and through the door before Arthur can change his mind. It’s a small enough town that it’s the headline for the local paper the next day, but it wasn’t a theft, and the owner appreciated the tip enough to ask police not to look into it. “I guess not everyone can make it to a 9-5 store,” the owner was quoted as saying. The two boys and their new clothes spend the day sleeping in a wine cellar that had a weak lock.

* * *

He doesn’t have to see outside to know. His wakes up like flipped switch, and he shakes John awake. John hisses at him and demands five more minutes, but luckily Arthur’s used to that. “Sunset. Got to go,” he explains, and John blinks up at him as he remembers they’re in a cellar. It’s just as easy to sneak out as it was to sneak in, though the delinquent in both of them can’t help but snag a few bottles on the way out. The moon is bright tonight, nearly as much as day, and for some reason the younger man seems somber, looking at Arthur the way Arthur used to look at Hosea. It sends a pang of heartache straight down to his core. And he wasn’t ready for what John asked.

“Think we’ll ever get to be as old as Dutch was?” John asks as they stop for a moment in a field. Arthur winces, sighs, hesitates. “Oh, I don’t know about that… now Dutch, Dutch was  _ ancient.  _ Hosea was too, if I reckon. And I mean, they had to have been ancient  _ before,  _ but after?” He chuckles a little, and so does John, the riff at their dads a shared joke underscored with bits of sorrow. They grow quiet again quickly. “Yeah,” John agrees, “The Pinkertons’ll probably get us before we can get any older than a regular person.”

“Don’t you say that!” Arthur snaps, although he isn’t fully sure why. “We’re smart, and we blend in fine. We don’t attract too much attention to ourselves neither. We’ll outlive all of them.” John scoffs again, but it isn’t the same sort of scoff as when he was convincing Arthur to steal a vest. It makes Arthur sad again, sad for the days John will never see, both literally and figuratively. “I ain’t too sure about that.” He’s bitter. And who could blame him?

Dutch’s bright eyes and woven words hadn’t been a match for the stake through his heart, after all, even if he  _ had  _ taken out more than fifty of their men in one go. And Hosea had been so busy fighting, so busy holding them off so Arthur and John could get to safety-- well, they had both been cowering in the dark cargo wagon, but they had seen the blue sky of the coming dawn. They knew. And Hosea would’ve cuffed both of their ears if they had tried to go back for a dead man. Worse was the change in the world. The days of outlaws were ending, and with it men getting killed and men going missing and men being drained of blood was getting rarer and rarer, which meant it was getting easier and easier to find folks like them. They were young, and both of them knew it--  _ so  _ young compared to Dutch and Hosea, since the two men had rescued them the only way they’d known how, and too young to know or even learn all the tricks that had kept those two alive for centuries before. 

  
“Tell you what,” Arthur says, because he didn’t think either of them could stand to dwell a second longer on that day in The Rockies, even with as much time as they both had. “We’ll both live to see the turn of the century, if nothin’ else. That ain’t quite as special as  _ bein’  _ a century old, but…” A weight lifts off his chest, a little, when he sees John relax a little. They could do ten years. Ten years was human. They could pretend, for that long, that they were still human. A stagecoach pulls up beside them, a wealthy-looking driver asking “What are you two boys doing out at night like this? Are you alright?” They share a look. They could pretend to be human for that long, yes. But they  _ were  _ outlaws. And they were hungry. “We was hopin to find somethin to eat,” John starts, playing at innocent, and Arthur has to stifle a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this was "Damn These Vampires" by The Mountain Goats. I wrote it a while ago but realized I hadn't posted it! I'm very proud of this, and I hope the vampire part being a twist was fun rather than annoying. Thank you for reading!


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